


Little Girl Sorrow

by zorac



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorac/pseuds/zorac
Summary: Decades after graduating from Blackwell, random chance causes Victoria and Kate's paths to cross. They're both very different people now, but is that enough for an unlikely friendship to blossom?
Relationships: Victoria Chase & Kate Marsh
Comments: 47
Kudos: 28





	1. Meet Cute

###### Victoria

I’ve never been a morning person. Getting up for class at school was always a trial, and one of the things I’ve most enjoyed about adulting is, if not always being able to set my own hours, then at least having more control over them. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I can dispense with the alarm clock entirely. Today, at least, I’m already mostly awake when it goes off, so I’m able to drag myself out of bed and into the shower with the minimum of grumbling. Once I’ve dried off, and deftly applied the minimum amount of make-up I’m willing to be seen in public with, I put on the outfit I selected last night, and head out the door.

My reward for getting out of the apartment ahead of schedule is that not only do I get to pick up my morning coffee at my favorite little independent place – rather than one of the automated Starbucks – but I’ll actually have time to sit down and take a few minutes for myself before heading into my first meeting of the day. The fifteen minute walk does a good job of waking me the rest of the way up, and the audiobook in my ear keeps me entertained. It’s a long-standing habit, a much easier to stick to way of getting exercise than forcing myself to go to the gym.

Caffé Roma is a few blocks away from the gallery, and a little out of my way when coming from home, but they serve some of the best coffee in Seattle. I found it around eighteen months ago, not long after I moved into my new apartment, and I’ve been a regular ever since. Before stepping up to the counter, I take a moment to peruse the pastries, deciding whether to treat myself this morning, or not. I end up choosing a croissant, still warm from the oven. They always conjure up fond memories of my visits to Paris.

I see her just after I’ve given my order to the barista, sat alone at a table in the corner of the café. Kate Marsh, my very own personal kryptonite. I tap my ring to the payment terminal on autopilot, telling myself that I’m mistaken. More than three decades have passed since I last set eyes on her, after all; it’s just as likely that this is some random woman who bears a passing resemblance to the teenage girl I used to know. But… when you bully someone almost to death, it tends to leave their features burned into some corner of your brain.

If I’d spotted Kate thirty seconds earlier, I could have simply turned around and left – or at least ordered my coffee to go – but it’s too late now. I make my way to the pick-up counter, and stand with my back to her, in the hopes that she won’t spot me, feeling like my teenage self again. I spent most of my senior year hiding from – or at the very least avoiding – Kate. I never even worked up the courage to apologize to her in person, making do with the card I sent while she was in the hospital. The fact that I was dealing with my own shit after the truth came out about Mark and Nathan isn’t much of an excuse.

I pull out my phone, and go in search of distractions. I succeed well enough, that the barista who sets my coffee on the counter has to call my name, loudly. I mumble an apology, and turn to leave – only to find Kate staring directly at me. I see her eyes widen in surprise and recognition, and I know there’s no way I can pretend that I haven’t seen her. All I can do is wait and see how she reacts. After a long moment, Kate nods towards the empty chair at her table. The way she does it is less of an invitation, and more of a demand; my feet start moving that way before I’ve even thought about it.

“Hello, Victoria, It’s been a long time,” Kate says. She gives me the barest hint of a smile; it doesn’t even come close to her eyes. In fact, now that I see her more closely, there’s an air of terrible sadness about Kate; etched into her features, and radiating from her posture. Something tells me that the fact she’s dressed entirely in black is due to more than just some questionable fashion choices.

“Hi, Kate,” I say, as I set my cappuccino down on the table and lower myself into the chair. “It has, and I have to admit I was caught off guard when I saw you here.”

“And so you hoped to sneak out unseen. Still avoiding me after all these years?”

“Yes, but… It was always more about staying out of your way than anything else. I didn’t want to dredge up old memories.”

Kate sighs. “I’ve been through worse things in the last thirty-five years than bullying from a teenage girl. It’s actually good to see a familiar face; I haven’t left the house in almost a month. Not since…” She lets out a sudden, choking sob, and tears begin to stream down her face. Kate reaches into her purse to pull out a handkerchief, and without even thinking, I reach out to take her other hand. She grips mine tightly.

“Not since what?” I ask, once she’s composed herself. The question hangs in the air between us for long seconds. Kate takes a sip of her coffee, and I do the same.

“Not since my wife’s funeral,” she says at last.

A myriad of questions flood through my brain, but now’s not the time to ask them – and for me, it may never be – but I suspect that the answers would explain what Kate meant by ‘worse things.’ Knowing which of the emotions I’m currently feeling I need to express, I simply say, “I’m so, so sorry, Kate. I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through.”

“Thank-you,” she says. “I… I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don’t be. I have to be prepared for questions when I leave the house – although if anyone asks how I’m doing, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “Nor should you be, when dealing with someone so insensitive.”

Kate cocks her head. “You’ve changed,” she says.

“So have you,” I reply; then, trying to lighten the mood a little, “I remember you being an inveterate tea-drinker back at Blackwell.” I’m rewarded with the hoped-for smile.

“That was Beth’s doing. She convinced me of the benefits of a more wakeful drink in the morning – and the older we got, the more I had to admit she was right. Of course, I persuaded _her_ of the need for a more soothing beverage in the afternoon, so it worked out well for both of us.” Kate’s lip quivers, and she blinks rapidly. “Every day, when Beth got home from work, we’d have a cup of tea, and talk about our days, and I… I never get to do that with her again…”

Acting on instinct, I scoot my chair around the table so that I’m next to Kate. Gently, I put an arm around her back and pull her head down onto my shoulder as she breaks down into heart-rending sobs. Awkwardly, I rub my hand up and down her arm, and tell her softly that it’s going to be okay, that she’ll get through this, and other meaningless platitudes.

Eventually, Kate sits back up, wipes her eyes, and blows her nose. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m clearly not ready to be back out here yet.”

“And how long would you make yourself wait for that to happen? You’re grieving a loss which I can’t even begin to comprehend; recovery is bound to be a slow process. Take it step by step, and hopefully next time will be just the tiniest bit easier. Give it long enough, and you may even find your life returning to something approaching normality.”

Kate gives me an appraising look. “That was actually a pretty decent pep talk, Victoria.”

“Thanks, I…” A gentle chime interrupts me. “Damn. Sorry, Kate, but we’re going to have to cut this short, or I’ll be late for a meeting, and being the boss just makes that even more rude. Will you be okay? I mean, not _okay_ okay, but…”

“I know what you mean. I’ll be fine, I promise. And it was actually kinda nice to see you.”

“It was,” I agree. “I think I might even manage not to run away, should our paths ever cross again.”

“Until then,” Kate says.

“ _Au revoir._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has actually been sitting around for a few weeks now waiting for me to find replacements for the "Untitled Chasemarsh" and [Wife] placeholders. After casting around for funereal Bible verses that I might be able to extract a title from, I remembered the chorus of a Ward Thomas song, and after finding the rest of the lyrics even more apropos, that finally gave me both a story title, and a name for Kate's late wife.
> 
> I do have more bits and pieces of this written, but nothing that approaches a coherent second chapter yet. I'm not even sure yet if the ship is going to exchange its & for a /, but even if it does, for sure it's going to be slow burn…


	2. Hello, Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks of official lockdown (and an unofficial one before that,) who knows how many to go; I hope you're all safe and well, and not getting too bored. I'm going to keep posting chapters for this, and my other WiPs, as soon as they're ready - although your guess is as good as mine as to what gets updated next…

###### Kate

After Victoria leaves, I sit quietly; sipping the rest of my mocha, tearing bite-sized pieces off the untouched croissant she left behind, and allowing my mind to fully settle. It was strange to see her again after all this time. We’re both very different people from the two young women who started their senior year at Blackwell – but no small part of those changes happened while we were still there. Certainly, I never saw her outright bulling anyone again after my suicide attempt; her meanness was blunted, and even followed up with an apology on occasion. I hardly know her well enough after just a few minutes to say what she’s truly like now, but her small acts of kindness spoke volumes.

As for me… that year certainly made me immeasurably stronger, more self-assured, and more self aware; I might not yet have been out of the closet, but at least I’d admitted to myself that I was in it. As I alluded to Victoria, the abuse I was on the receiving end of due to my sexuality dwarfed her bullying – which, in the end, I only had to endure for weeks, not years – but I was better able to shake it off. And as for my family, well, after their response to my suicide attempt, I knew what to expect from them. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt when my parents disowned me, but at least I was prepared for it.

And I had Beth there beside me, supporting me every step of the way. She made it all worthwhile – and now she’s gone. I blink back the tears that are threatening again, down the rest of my coffee, and head home. After making myself some chamomile tea, I curl up in Beth’s favorite chair to read, while constantly checking my phone for my oldest friend to be available. Once she is, Max picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Kate, how’s today treating you?” She’s all business; no cloying sympathy.

“Well, I finally managed to leave the apartment.”

“Good for you,” she says encouragingly. “How did that go?”

“Well, I made it as far as a coffee shop about three blocks away, where I lasted all of a quarter hour before bursting into tears on someone’s shoulder, and her having to comfort me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that; but hey, at least you can always rely on the kindness of strangers. So… was she cute?” Max’s gentle teasing has been a boon to me; she has a good instinct for what will make me smile, as opposed to what would make me lash out.

“Well, she wasn’t a complete stranger, and… I guess I would have to say that she’s aged well.”

“Anyone I might know?”

“Victoria.” I just let that hang there for a moment, while Max places the name.

“ _Blackwell_ Victoria? The bitch who…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, fuck me.” There’s a moment’s before Max continues, “I did hear that she’d taken over the Chase Space when her parents finally retired, so it makes sense she’d be in Seattle, too. Not exactly who I had in mind when I said you should go out and meet people, though.”

“Thing is, she was clearly trying to avoid me, and I only called her over because I was so desperate to see _any_ familiar face. And… she was perfectly nice. We didn’t really get to talk much, thanks to me crying all over her after I explained about Beth, and then she had to run off to work. Said it was rude for the boss to be late.”

“Huh,” says Max. “I guess I just remember her the way she was those first few weeks at school; we didn’t really have much contact with her after that. So… are you going to see her again?”

“It was only a chance encounter, Max.”

“Yeah, but if you _wanted_ to, I’m sure it would be easy enough to track her down. Worst case, you just show up at the Chase Space and ask to see her. Aren’t you the tiniest bit curious to find out more about her?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I could use some local friends, but is she really the best person? I’m not even sure I want to stay in Seattle, anyway.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to pressure you. Just make sure to pass along all the gossip if you do run into her again.”

“I don’t gossip,” I tell her, indignant.

“Fine, but tell me anyway.”

I can’t help but smile. “Okay, Max, I’ll keep you appraised, should anything happen.”

“That’s all I ask. Well, that and you need to get out more, even if you never see Victoria again. I bet you haven’t spent so long cooped up in your apartment since 2020.”

“I will. I think that the first time was the hardest. But, enough about me, what’s new with you?”

“Since we last talked? Very little, I’m afraid.” She thinks for a moment. “Well, that’s not entirely true; this funny thing happened at the celebrity wedding I told you I was doing the photos for. I can’t name names, obviously, but…”

* * *

###### Victoria

That chance encounter stays on my mind for the next few days, so it’s no great surprise that when Taylor calls me for our bi-monthly catchup, it’s the first thing I mention after the opening pleasantries.

“So, you’ll never guess who I ran into a couple of days ago.”

“The Pope?” Taylor quips.

“Close; Kate Marsh.”

“Kate?” It takes her a moment to place the name. “From Blackwell?”

“None other.”

“Still a ‘Marsh,’ though?”

“Actually, I don’t know; she’s recently widowed, so it would have been rather tactless to ask.”

“Well, she seems the sort who would have taken her husband’s name,” Taylor suggests.

“Perhaps, but the more pertinent question is, ‘would she have taken her wife’s?’”

Silence.

“Kate’s _gay?_ ”

“Well, she’s not straight, that’s for sure.”

“Huh. Tell me more.”

“There’s not much more to tell. We happened to be in the same coffee shop this morning, and chatted for a few minutes before I had to run off to work. After having her sobbing on my shoulder, I didn’t really feel like it was the time to ask any more personal questions.”

“Are you at least going to see her again?”

“Probably not. We didn’t swap numbers or anything, and Seattle isn’t exactly a small town, so it’s hardly likely to happen by accident a second time.” I decide not to mention that I’ve been making an effort to get to the coffee shop early the last few days, just in case.

“Fine. At least tell me you haven’t told Courtney yet, so I can see the look on her face.”

“No, I haven’t – and you shouldn’t either. The last thing Kate needs is the three of us gossiping behind her back again.”

Taylor sighs. “You were more fun before you grew a conscience. Plus, you seriously need to stop beating yourself up over what happened back at Blackwell. You’re not the only person who was shitty to Kate; there’s Nathan and Jefferson for starters, as you well know – I was the one who had to listen to your rants when they were finally released from jail. Courtney and me were right alongside you, trying to outdo each other, as well as egging you on. And, well, most of the rest of the Vortex Club – and plenty of the other students – watched and laughed at the video, or mocked Kate for her abstinence club, or…”

“Yes, yes, I take your point. But the fact that other people were hateful to Kate too doesn’t absolve me of what _I_ did.” I growl in frustration. “I don’t know, maybe if I’d run into Kate earlier, when her wife was still alive, and she was still happy, then things would be different. But seeing her so broken… it just took me right back.”

“You can’t blame yourself forever, Vic.”

I laugh darkly. “I’m quite sure that I can. None of my therapists ever succeeded in dissuading me, so you’re on a hiding to nothing if you’re planning to try.”

“Perhaps; but there’s one person who _can_ , and I think you know that. Sure, by the sounds of it, she’s in no position to help you right now, but maybe if you cultivate a friendship with Kate, help her through her grief, one day she’ll be ready to help you let go of your guilt.”

Taylor’s right, and I know it. Already, Kate’s comment about having been through worse things is buzzing in the back of my head. “Okay, Tay, I get the message. I’ll think about it, okay?” I inject a note of warning into my voice, though.

“Fine, I’ll let it drop – for now. Besides, I need to tell you about my new boy toy…” I’m somewhat relieved by the change to a more familiar topic of conversation. If Taylor hasn’t become the most voracious cougar in Eugene since her husband left, it certainly isn’t for lack of trying.


	3. Once Upon a Time

###### Kate

It’s more than a week before I leave the apartment again, this time in search of open, green spaces. Fresh air, sunshine, and grass under my feet do more for me than I was expecting, and it quickly becomes a regular part of my week. I’m reminded of the daily walks Beth and I would take during the coronavirus lockdown, and how they helped us keep our sanity. At least I don’t need to wear a face mask now.

It’s three weeks after I first left the apartment that I make the conscious decision to go back to the coffee shop where I ran into Victoria. Sure, I have frequent calls with Max, my sisters, and the kids, but there’s no substitute for talking to someone face to face. And, with Beth having had her relapse just after we moved to Seattle, I never really got the chance to make any friends here.

When I arrived at Caffé Roma, I look through the window before going in. I see Victoria, cup in hand, sitting herself down at the same table I was at last time we met. Smiling, I step inside and over to the counter; after a moment’s thought, I order a pair of croissants along with my coffee. My former nemesis is so absorbed in something on her phone that she’d doesn’t once look up, and it’s only when I set one the pastries down in front of her that she’s startled into noticing me.

“Is this seat taken?” I ask.

“Oh! Um, no. Please, join me.” She manages to smile, despite how flustered she is. “It’s good to see you again, but… what’s this for?” She gestures at the croissant.

“You left yours behind last time we met,” I tell her as I sit down. “Since that was likely due to me crying on you, it only seemed fair that I get you a replacement – especially as I ate that one.”

Victoria opens her mouth in exaggerated shock. “Thievery! And from such a Godly woman.” Then, she hesitates. “At least, I assume…”

“Yes, Victoria, I’m still a Christian.” Unconsciously, I reach up to touch my crucifix necklace, a birthday gift from Beth many years ago. “Even if it’s been a while since I last went to church; whilst I don’t blame our Lord for my wife’s death, I still… need a little space from Him right now.” Never mind the fact that I haven’t had the chance to find the right congregation to join; absent that community, I prefer to say my prayers in private at the moment.

Victoria nods slowly. “I guess I can understand that. No matter how strong your faith, the untimely departure of someone you love is sure to test it. To make you ask why your God wouldn’t protect one of his followers.”

“Something like that, yes – although Beth was a life-long atheist, so I wouldn’t call her one of His followers.”

Victoria blinks. “Is it strange that I find that more surprising than her gender?”

I actually laugh for a moment. “Maybe. But after those first few weeks at Blackwell, I became much more private about my faith. And, seeing as how the person who most helped me through that difficult time” – not to mention her making a terrible sacrifice – “did so without needing a God, while the most zealous members of my family were also the most hateful… I learned to judge people by their deeds.”

I look down for a moment, before continuing softly, “Beth was a good person. Any God worth of my praise would find a place for her in heaven, and not care that she only came to church when I dragged her there at Christmas and Easter.” I dab a napkin at the corner of my eye, but I mange to avoid giving in to tears.

“I’d like to hear more about Beth,” Victoria tells me. “I can understand that you’re not ready to talk about… recent events, but perhaps you could tell me how the two of you met?”

I’m unsure for a moment, but… I can’t spend the rest of my life not talking about someone who was the most important person in it. “Alright. It was at the very beginning of my first semester at college…”

* * *

I closed the door of my new dorm room with a sigh of relief. Just like every time I went back to Blackwell, I was glad to be out of that house, to be away from my parents. I’d miss Lynn and Ruth, of course, but having to tiptoe around my mother was exhausting. I knew that sooner or later I’d snap, say something I couldn’t take back, and find myself cut off from my sisters – at least until they were old enough to leave home too – not to mention the financial support I’d need to get through my degree program.

I looked around; there was no sign of my room-mate, unsurprisingly. I’d made sure to arrive at the earliest possible opportunity; she might not turn up for another couple of days. Hopefully that would give me time to unpack and get settled in before I met the person I’d be living with for the next year – I wasn’t above relishing a little bit of a home field advantage. I spent a few moments figuring out which side of the room would get the best light, then dragged my cases over there and started transferring my belongings into cupboards and drawers.

It was early afternoon the next day when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” I called, pushing my chair back from the desk, and getting to my feet as a young Asian-American woman came in. For a moment, we sized each other up; I gave her a quick once-over, from the pink tips of her hair to the rainbow laces in her combat boots.

“Hi, they told me that my roomie was already here. I’m Beth. Bethany Wu.”

There was a button on her jacket that read ‘Smile if You’re a Lesbian.’ I couldn’t help the corners of my mouth turning up. “Kate Marsh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I see you were an early bird,” she said.

“Yes, I got here yesterday. It’s always nice to get away from home.” That was more than I’d intended to say.

“I’m sorry to hear that. If you want to talk about it, I’ve been told I’m a good listener – and if not, I’ll respect that, too.”

“Thanks. It would be nice to have someone to talk to,” I admitted.

Beth spotted something, and her eyes narrowed. I turned, and she nodded towards the small crucifix I’d hung above my bed. “We’re not going to have a problem, are we?”

“No,” I told her firmly. “My closest friend from high school is pan, and I try my best to be a good ally. I refuse to give in to the hatred of people like my mother.”

“So… you won’t have a problem with me bringing girls back here?”

I blinked a little at her forthrightness. “We should probably set some boundaries about that sort of thing, but I’m certainly happier about the idea of strange women in my room than strange men.”

Beth laughed. “Oh, I think we’re going to get along just fine, Kate.”

“I’d like that. I’m hoping to make some new friends here, and where better to start than with the one person I won’t be able to get away from?”

She laughed again. “Sounds like a plan to me. Keep me company while I get unpacked?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Cool. So, why not tell me a little about yourself? How hellish was your high school? And this friend of yours, is she cute? Is she single? Is she coming to visit?”

It was my turn to laugh. “You mean Max?” I let Beth’s face fall, just a little, before I continue, “she hated being called ‘Maxine,’ and everywhere she went, she took this vintage Polaroid camera with her. You know, one of the ones with instant film…”

* * *

Without me even noticing it, almost an hour has passed while I told Victoria about the beginnings of my friendship with Beth. Our pastries are nothing but crumbs on plates, and I realize with a start that Victoria should surely be at work by now. “I’m sorry, I must be making you late.”

“It’s fine; I don’t have any meetings this morning, so it’s perfectly fine for the boss to show up whenever she chooses. You’re right, though, I probably should be going.” She hesitates, then says shyly, “perhaps we could do this again some time?”

“I think I would like that. Maybe the same time next week?” Victoria nods. “I might not make it; I still have days when I can’t face getting out of bed, but if so I’ll try again the following week.”

“Okay, that works for me,” she says, starting to get up. “I’ll see you then.”

I catch her hand as she turns towards the door. “Thank-you. For getting me to talk about her. About… happier times. It helped.”

Victoria allows herself a small smile. “You’re welcome, Kate. I’ve had enough therapy to pick up a few tools of the trade. I look forward to seeing you again.” And with that, she leaves.

Before I follow suit, I sit back for a minute, closing my eyes, and remembering a familiar smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Siri so helpfully (and repeatedly) reminded me, I was supposed to be seeing Ward Thomas live this evening, perhaps even listening to this Fic's title track. Instead, I'm sat at the same desk where I've seen the lion's share of the last however many weeks it is since lockdown began. Of course, that's like some meta version of a first-world problem right now. Who knows, maybe this story will still be unfinished when I get to see them for real…


	4. Loved and Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should make some sort of comment about the things which are going on in the world at the moment, because silence looks an awful lot like complicity.
> 
> Black Lives Matter.  
> Trans Lives Matter.
> 
> I could keep going, but I don't want this to become "all lives matter."
> 
> I don't belong to any group that has been marginalised, or demonised, or persecuted, or discriminated against. There's never been any doubt that my life mattered. I come from a place of privilege. Now isn't the time for me to mouth off. Now is the time for me to shut up and listen to the voices of people without that privilege, and to educate myself about how to become a better ally. I hope that those of you in the same position as me are doing the same.

###### Kate

True to my word, the next week I go back to Caffé Roma. It seems I’ve beaten Victoria to it, so I order my coffee and take it over to what I already think of as ‘our’ table. For something to do, I pull out my pad and start idly doodling. I’ve been making a conscious effort to start trying to flex my creative muscles the last few days; nothing serious, but there’s a nagging voice at the back of my mind reminding me that, sooner or later, I’ll need to get back to work. Thankfully, there’s no rush; we have… we had… I have plenty of savings, and my publisher has been very understanding. My editor was at the funeral, and assured me that the contract for my next book is on indefinite hold, and to take as long as I need to grieve.

Still, while I may not _need_ to get back to work, I really hope that some day I’ll _want_ to. I’ve had two great passions in my life; one was Beth, and the other was telling stories. I’m not sure I could take it if losing one of then has also meant losing the will to do other. I don’t know what I would do with myself. I still have my children, of course, and my sisters, and my friends… but they’re all so far away, and they all have their own lives to live. They’re not enough to fill the gaping void that Beth’s passing has left in my life.

I lose track of time, so it’s only when I find that the dregs of my coffee are now stone cold that I realize how much time has passed – and that there’s still no sign of Victoria. I’ve been stood up. I’m just debating whether or not I should leave, when she bursts in through the door of the coffee shop, and hurries straight over to me.

“Kate, I am _so_ sorry. There was an attempted break-in at the gallery last night, so I was up well past my bedtime, and I completely overslept this morning.” She gestures at the cup I’ve pushed aside. “Can I get you another one?”

“A cappuccino would be nice,” I admit.

“Okay,” she says, draping her jacket over the back of the other chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later she sets a fresh drink down in front of me, and settles into the other chair with a sigh of relief. “Thanks for waiting for me. I’m definitely getting too old to pull all-nighters.”

“What happened? Are you… is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. We have excellent security systems, so all the would-be thieves succeeded in doing was locking themselves in the lobby. They did some damage to the reception desk, but that’s about it. Unfortunately I still had to get up at one in the morning to disable the alarms and unlock everything so that the police could take them away. By the time I’d done that, and answered their questions, I was several hours minus on sleep, and it’s been at least a decade since I could get away with that.”

“Don’t you have subordinates who could take care of that sort of thing for you?”

“I do, but they all have families, so it doesn’t seem fair to ask them to do it.”

“Oh.” These little snippets Victoria throws around about her attitude to work continue to surprise me. “So… there’s not Mr. Chase? You live alone?”

“Yes, I do, and no, there isn’t. Not this particular point in time, anyway.” I cock my head, and Victoria sighs. “There are… three former Mr. Chases, though.”

“Oh,” I say, doing my best to keep any judgment out of my voice. Victoria isn’t religious, as far as I’m aware, so it’s hardly fair to impose my values on her, and complain about the sanctity of marriage. Even if… I feel like three times implies some poor judgment. Besides, my own marriage to Beth would be seen as a far greater attack on that sanctity by some of the people who claim to care most about such things.

“…and also two former Mrs. Chases,” Victoria continues.

“Oh.” I say again. “ _Oh._ ”

“It’s okay, feel free to go ahead and judge me. Not for being pan – I can’t see you having a problem with that, not now at any rate – but after five failed marriages? Everyone else does – myself most of all.”

That makes me frown, just a little. “I’m not going to judge you, Victoria, it’s just… didn’t you learn, after the first couple of times?”

She smiles ruefully. “You would think, but when it comes to love, I have an unerring tendency to fall hard and fast, and lose the ability to use my higher brain functions. Every one of my exes, within a couple of weeks of meeting them… I would have sworn blind that they were the one, that I’d never felt that way about anyone before, and that _of course_ I’d be spending the rest of my life of them. And, for every one of my exes, within a few of years of marrying them, I had the divorce papers to prove that my earlier beliefs were self-delusion. I’d like to think that I’ve learned my lesson on that one, but history isn’t really on my side, and it seems all too likely that I’m simply on the lookout for the next future ex-Mr. or Mrs. Chase.”

“Please don’t do that, Victoria,” I tell her. “You deserve so much better. Going through the loss of one spouse…” I feel all the emotions flooding back, and the only other thing I manage is a chocked, “five?”

Immediately, Victoria produces a handkerchief from her purse and passes to me, before scooting her chair along and putting a comforting arm around my shoulders. “Don’t you _dare_ , Kate,” she tells me; softly, but forcefully. “Do _not_ compare what you’re going through to my past. I didn’t ‘lose’ any of my exes, not like you did. We simply… broke up – some amicably, some less so – but they’re all still alive. I’m just… not in love with them any more. I can’t begin to comprehend what you must be going through, but any pain I suffered from my marriages ending must surely pale in comparison.”

I don’t entirely disagree with her, but I do get the impression that Victoria is downplaying her own experiences in an attempt to make me feel better. It’s… actually kind of sweet, but I’m not sure that I should say so. In fact, I’m not sure what to say at all, so I simply say nothing. I let her presence comfort me, until I’m feeling a little more put together again. “Sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to make crying on you a regular thing.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Kate. I mean, I hate that you’re having these feelings, but I’m honored that you feel comfortable enough to express them around me.”

“Of course,” I say, wiping the last the tears from my eyes, before setting the handkerchief down on the table between us, not sure if Victoria will actually want it back. “While I would have done everything I could not to show weakness around that cruel girl I knew in high school, you’re not her. _You_ are a grown woman who has never shown me anything less than kindness and respect, and you deserve to receive that in return.”

“Thanks, I…” Now it’s Victoria who looks like she might cry. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So, how long has it been?”

“Huh? Oh. It’s been a little over five years since my last divorce was finalized.”

“And you’re not seeing anyone?”

“No. I mean, I’ve been on a handful of dates, but none of them led anywhere. In all honesty, I’ve been too focused on my work to put much effort into my love life. It seems safer that way.”

“Everyone deserves to be loved, Victoria, even you.”

“Perhaps, but are you going to be joining the dating scene any time soon?”

I recoil from the very idea of it. “No!” I can’t imagine _ever_ wanting to find someone to take Beth’s place, no matter promises she had me make whilst she was on her deathbed.

“I’ve been burnt too many times, Kate. For me… it feels like love comes at much too high a cost.”

“Have you tried defying gravity?” I quip. “But, seriously, it sounds to me like you haven’t found the right person – and that because of your past experiences, you don’t trust yourself to recognize that person when you find them.”

“A bit of a Catch–22, wouldn’t you say?”

“Only if you allow it to become one. By all means distrust your feelings when they come too quickly, but why not look instead for a love that builds on friendship. Slowly, over months, or even years. Maybe _that_ you could believe in.”

“Was that how it was for you and Beth?”

“Yes.” Or, at least, close enough. The full story can wait for another time.

Victoria just sits there for a long moment. “I… I’ll think about it.”

I give her a small smile. “That’s all I’m suggesting.” Victoria simply nods, then covers a large yawn. “You look exhausted,” I tell her. “Maybe you should think about taking the day off. I’m sure you can persuade the boss.”

Victoria lets out a most unladylike snort. “I don’t know. She can be a bit of a tyrant sometimes.” She yawns again. “Probably a good idea, though.”

“I’ll see you again next week?” I phrase it as a question, not wanting to impose on her.

“Uh… actually, I’m going to be out of town for a few days, so I definitely won’t be around next week, and possibly not the week after. Three weeks’ time for sure, though.”

I cover my disappointment by getting up. “Well, I’ll see you then. In the meantime, get some sleep!”

“Yes, Mom,” Victoria says, sardonically.

It’s a good thing I’ve already turned away, or she’d have seen the sharp flash of pain on my face.

That’s what the kids called Beth.


	5. Got Well Soon

###### Kate

I go back to the coffee shop the next week, purely out of habit; I’m not surprised when Victoria isn’t there. When she doesn’t show up the following week, I find that I’m disappointed. The next couple of weeks _I_ miss, because it’s been three months since Beth died, and I’m so consumed with renewed grief that I can barely get out of bed, let alone leave the house.

When Victoria still doesn’t make an appearance the first week after that, or the second, I’m concerned. That feeling, made odd by its subject, rattles around my brain for a couple of days, until I find to my surprise that I don’t want to wait until next week to find out if she’s okay – and what if she _still_ doesn’t show up?

My mind made up, I pull on a pair of sensible boots and a rainproof coat, and head into the city. My destination isn’t that far from Caffé Roma – one of the few places in Seattle I’m confident I can find unaided – so I only need my phone’s placid voice in my ear to guide me on the final stage of my walk. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of the Chase Space. Suddenly nervous, I head inside.

Th reception desk shows no sign of its encounter with would-be thieves last month, and the person sat behind it is exactly what I’d expect from a gallery run by Victoria. Early twenties, impeccably turned out, and their gender impossible to guess. “Hi, can I help you?” they ask when I step up to the desk.

“Yes, I was wondering if Victoria Chase was available.”

“She’s extremely busy. Do you have an appointment?” Their expression as they look me up and down suggests that I don’t look like the sort of person who would have one.

“No, I don’t.” I decide to be a little economical with the truth, “I’m an old friend, and I happened to be in the area, so I thought I’d drop in and see if Victoria was available. Of course, if she’s busy with meetings, I can catch up with her another time.”

“Just a moment,” the receptionist says, picking up the phone, and it appears that my charm offensive has paid off. “Miss Chase, there’s someone here asking to see you, a…” They look pointedly at me, and I give them my name. “Kate Mash… Okay.” Their posture shifts as they put the phone down. “She’ll be down in a few moments. Please make yourself at home.” They gesture towards a couch that seems to be designed more for appearance than comfort. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Some water would be lovely, thank-you.”

“I’ll bring that right over.” I can barely restrain a smile at their change in demeanor.

I gingerly sit down on the couch, and within seconds a glass of chilled water is in my hand. I sip it slowly while I wait for my… friend? to arrive.

Less than five minutes later, Victoria bustles in. “Kate, lovely to see you again. Sorry to keep you waiting; I wanted to finish what I was doing so I didn’t completely lose my train of thought.”

“Of course, I completely understand.” If someone interrupts me while I’m writing, it can take me forever to get back into it.

“Thanks. Well, why don’t you come on up.” She leads me through a door marked ‘Staff Only,’ up a couple of flights of stairs, and into a surprisingly small office. Victoria must have read my expression, because she asks, “expecting something grander?”

“Frankly? Yes. Your receptionist has a nicer desk.”

“That’s for public consumption; there’s not need to spend that kind of money on my private office.”

“But… you have money. And I seem to remember you always having the nicest things.”

“The Chase _family_ have money; the Chase _Space_ barely breaks even. In all honesty, it was my parents’ vanity project. Dad inherited all his money from my grandparents, and he decided to plow a good chunk of it into building a name for himself in the art world. He got his time in the spotlight, schmoozing all the big name artists, but when that time passed he got bored with it. The New York and Los Angeles branches were hemorrhaging cash now that all the hot talent and moved on to new, cooler galleries, so when my parents decided it was time to stop bankrolling the enterprise, it was inevitable that they’d have to be shut down.”

“That was when they dropped the whole mess in my lap, telling me that if I did their dirty work for them, I could have what was left of the business: the original Seattle gallery. I’ve spent the last ten years keeping this place afloat – if only barely. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but the veneer of money around here is only skin deep these days.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, enough about me; what brings you here?”

“Would you believe that I was worried about you after you didn’t show up for coffee the last two weeks?”

“Much like I was when you weren’t there the two weeks before that – but I did the math and realized how long it must have been since…” she trails off, and I simply nod mutely. “Anyway, I was laid low by whatever exotic variety of the flu is going around; I never fully recovered from the original covid, so things like that always hit me hard.”

My concern is genuine as I reach out to lay a hand on hers. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Victoria. I hope you’re feeling better now.”

“Much better, Kate; thanks. Maybe we should swap numbers so we can get in touch with each other if something like that happens again, though.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” I tell her, holding out my phone, and tapping the button to exchange details. “I promise not to abuse the privilege.”

“As if you would,” she scoffs. “Honestly, Kate, _I’m_ the one with a history of abuse.”

“You’re also the one who’s a high-powered businesswoman with a receptionist who clearly has instructions to keep time-wasters away from you.”

“JC’s a treasure, they remind me of a younger version of myself. I’m going to miss them when they move on to better things, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It may sound odd, but I’m proud of the high turnover of staff in our entry-level positions – because we’ve helped them on the next stage of their career, or their artistic journey. Sometimes that’s with actual mentoring, and sometimes it’s just by providing a steady paycheck while they hone their craft. And few things have made me more proud than the times a Chase Space alumnus earned themselves a showing right here.”

“That’s… really great, Victoria,” I say, a little at loss for words. Every time I’ve met her, she’s confounded any expectations I might have had based on our time in high school.

“Yes, well.” She seems a little embarrassed. “Anyway, for all that I’m a businesswoman – and I dispute the ‘high powered’ part – you’re a bestselling author.”

“Of children’s books, and only if you look at the charts that have that as a separate category from ‘young adult.’” I say it without bitterness, because I never wanted fame or fortune; it’s enough that my words and pictures have found their way into the hands of children around the world. That I’ve been successful enough to make a full-time career of it is a blessing.

“So you’re not the next… You Know Who.” She spits that out with surprising venom. “What’s more important is that through your words and pictures you teach kids about the value of friendship, and kindness, and tolerance.”

“You’ve… read my books?” I’m not sure how I feel about that. “You’re not exactly the target age group.”

“True, and I wish I’d read them – or, at least, something like them – when I _was_ that age. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have…” She shakes her head and sighs. “I could have earned a ton of cool points with my godson by telling him that I knew his favorite author, but I didn’t want to have to explain that one of your villains was at least partly based on me.”

I can’t help but feel a flush of shame at that revelation, but I also can’t help pointing out, “then you’ll also know that she shows remorse, mends her ways, and ultimately ends up helping the hero.”

“That’s why I said ‘partly.’”

I consider my next words carefully. “Yes, you were a bully, and you did one _truly_ shitty thing, but you weren’t Nathan, and you certainly weren’t Jefferson. You showed remorse, even if you never really managed to verbalize it, and I never once saw you bully anyone again, not after that day. From what little I’ve seen of you over the last few months, you seem to be a good person now – better than most, perhaps. But, if you do feel the need to help me, I could use a friend who lives in Seattle.”

Victoria stares at me, her expression constantly shifting. I can see that guilt still weighs her down, even after all these years; I’d like to help her let go of it, if she’ll let me. When she does finally speak, all she says is, “so could I.”

“You don’t have friends here?” I ask, surprised and confused. I know it’s been more than a decade since she took over the Chase Space.

“Not any more; not close friends, anyway. Pretty much every friend I made after moving back to Seattle knew one of my last two exes before they knew me, so I lost a lot of them in the divorces, and even those I didn’t… our friendships were never quite the same again.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” I’m not sure how else to respond to that.

“Don’t be. Cause and effect. Neither marriage ended well; I got what I deserved.”

“I don’t pretend to know the details, but I refuse to believe that you _deserved_ to lose all your friends.”

“You’re too kind, Kate,” she demurs, but something in her eyes tells me she needed to hear that. Before I can say anything else, the phone on Victoria’s desk rings. “Yes?” she says after picking it up, then, “okay, I’ll be right down.” She turns back to me. “I’m sorry, but I have a meeting.”

“That’s fine, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time; I just wanted to check if you were alright.” We both get up and head for the door. “I’ll see you for coffee next week?”

“How would you feel about doing lunch instead, give us a little more time?”

“I’d like that.”

“Great. Once I have my schedule for next week, I’ll give you a call, and we can set something up.”

“Sounds good,” I tell her. There’s no need to mention that my own schedule is completely empty. I think that it’s time to start doing something about that. And, after the way Victoria talked about my books, I feel the beginnings of something I haven’t felt in more than half a year.

The urge to go home and create something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel Kate - I've really been struggling to get into writing now that I don't have protected time for it on my commute. I have a bunch of ideas for where this story is going, but I'm having a hard time getting them out of by brain and onto (virtual) paper, so I'm not going to make any promises about timelines…


	6. First Time Unlucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologise for the delay, but I checked, and two months is actually a faster update than the last one. The first half of this chapter was actually written at the end of September, while commuting for my sole trip to the office since March (for a socially-distanced farewell to a former colleague, and to clear out my desk in the expectation that working from home is going to be a permanent thing) but the covid blahs meant it took me this long to finally get it finished. Still, the Christmas break is coming, so there's a good 50/50 chance I'll have another chapter up before the end of the year…

###### Victoria

It’s the next Thursday, and I’m meeting Kate for lunch in a little Italian place a few blocks from the gallery. It’s comfortable and familiar, and since I’ve been here at least a couple of times a month for the last decade, the staff almost treat me like part of the family.

“Victoria! Delightful to see you again.”

“You as well, Antonio. What delicious special do you have for us today?”

“We had a fresh shipment of ’nduja in this morning, and Giustina has cooked up a pasta sauce with it that will make your taste buds soar.”

“Or possibly set them on fire!” I retort; Antonio laughs. “I’ll need to order an extra-large bottle of San Pellegrino along with the wine, then.”

“Vey wise. Anyway, your lovely new lady friend arrived a few minutes ago, and I’ve already seated her at your usual table.”

“She’s an old friend from high school – and recently widowed, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

He sighs. “It’s been too long since you were here for a romantic, candlelit dinner. You need to find yourself someone, bring some joy to your life!”

“I’m quite happy being single right now, I’ve had a little too much ‘joy’ from my relationships since I came back to Seattle.”

He holds up his hands. “As you wish. I’ll be over in a few minutes to take your order.”

“Thanks, Antonio.” I make my way over to the corner booth; Kate looks up and smiles as she sees me coming. “Sorry if I’m a little late,” I tell her.

“You’re right on time; I was a bit early.” She gives me an odd look. “The maître d’ was very effusive once I said who I was here to meet.”

Laughing, I sat down. “I’ve been a regular here for years, and Antonio seems to take a very personal interest in my love life; I’ve set him straight on that front.”

“Ah, so you bring all your hot dates here.”

“Hot dates, no; those I would take somewhere flashy, where I can impress them with whatever food is the current hot trend. This is where I bring people I’m comfortable with, to relax, and actually enjoy what I’m eating. So, third date at the earliest.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then. So, what’s good?”

“Not to be trite, but everything. Pick whatever takes your fancy, and I promise it will be wonderful.”

We spend a few minutes discussing the menu, and then Antonio comes over to offer his opinions, and by the time we’ve decided on our dishes – and the right wine to accompany them – quarter of an hour has passed.

“So,” Kate begins, taking a sip of her wine, and nodding appreciatively. “Last time we talked, you asked to hear about how I met Beth. I think that this time you should tell me about your first husband – or wife; whichever came first. As long as you’re okay with that, of course.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I don’t mind talking about husband number one; of all my failed marriages, that’s the one with the happiest ending.”

“I met Emmet at the start of my freshman year of college; he was in my photography classes, and we bonded a little over being a year older than everyone else. Me because of the double senior year at Blackwell, of course, and Emmet because he’d taken a year off after high school to have his top surgery.”

“Emmet was trans?” Kate’s tone make it clear this is simply a clarifying question, not surprise or judgment.

“Yes. He was only out as non-binary in high school – his parents wanted him to take the time to ‘consider his options’ – but decided that he wanted to fully transition before starting college.”

“So was it pretty much love at first sight, like you said when we first met?”

“Actually, no; Emmet was the exception to that rule. We were friends first, and even then it took me a year or two to really let him in. I was still feeling pretty burned by my experiences with…” I stop myself before naming Nathan or Mark – Kate’s the last person who needs to hear about them – “…with the male gender at Blackwell.”

Kate gets a thoughtful look. “I don’t really remember you dating at school.”

“We didn’t exactly move in the same social circles, Kate. You are mostly right, though. Zach ditched me just before, well, _that_ week, and he was the last boy there that I had any interest in.” Well, other than one of the new seniors during our final year; I had a brief fling with him, but I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t even remember his name. Thankfully, the interruption caused by the arrival of our food means there’s no need to mention that to Kate.

“So,” Kate says, picking up the conversation a few minutes later, “did you have a love life at all in college?”

“A _love_ life? Not so much, at least until near the end of my final year. I had a _sex_ life, but I was very careful not to get too emotionally invested in any of the men – or the couple of women – I dated.” I sigh. “Frankly, I was too scared of getting hurt to let any of them get close to me.”

Kate’s looking at me thoughtfully. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they? Your crush on Jefferson wasn’t exactly subtle, and anyone with eyes could see that Nathan was like a brother to you. When they both turned out…” I can’t hear the rest of what she says over the sound of blood rushing through my ears, and a flash of memory. I’m brought out of it by the touch of another hand on mine. “Victoria? Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet!”

“I’m fine,” I tell her, shaking my head. Kate’s eyes narrow. “Sorry, just an old, unpleasant memory.”

Kate purses her lips for a moment, then gives my hand a quick squeeze before taking hers back. “I know what it’s like to have those. I’d be happy to listen if you want to talk about it some time.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” Something in Kate’s expression tells me that if I don’t, she’ll bring it up again herself, sooner or later. For today, though, I’m off the hook.

“So, If it wasn’t love at first sight, and you weren’t getting emotionally invested, how _did_ you and Emmet end up together?”

“Like I said, we were both that little bit older than the rest of the class, and we gravitated together as study buddies, then project partners. We never really socialized beyond that, though, not at first. Then, slowly, we began to spend more time together; ordering take-out and watching a movie after a marathon study session, or going out for drinks to celebrate finishing a project. And, somewhere along the line, without me even realizing it, Emmet had become my closest friend – and the best friend I’d ever had.”

“Of course, being me, I totally freaked out about that. Thankfully, by that point I trusted my therapist enough to call her straight away – and to let her talk me down. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure that I would have done something completely stupid to sabotage my friendship with Emmet. Instead, I chose to embrace it – and he’s remained my best friend ever since.”

“Spoilers!” Kate says, with a laugh. “So how did you end up married – and divorced?”

“It started with our big final year photography project; we spent a couple of weeks working very closely together, and our friendship developed a new, flirty undertone. Then after going out for drinks to celebrate getting it finished and handed in, we ended up in bed together. It was… a revelation. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t just having sex, I was making love. Being with someone I truly cared about made more of a difference than I could ever have imagined.”

“So that isn’t just a romance novel trope?” Kate asks.

“Apparently not. Was Beth your first, then?”

She nods. “Kissing was as far as things ever got with any of the guys I dated.” Then, before I can ask a follow-up question, “what happened next?”

“After spending three and a half years getting to know each other, we had something of a whirlwind romance. I quickly realized that I loved Emmet, and just as quickly decided I must be in love with him. It was less than a couple of months later – just after the last of our exams – that I proposed. We were married the following spring.”

“And you were happy?”

“We were.” I think back to those days, and smile. “Very happy.”

“So what went wrong?”

“The cracks started a couple of years later, when we got past the honeymoon period, and started talking about long term plans. Perhaps something we should have thought about _before_ we tied the knot, but we were young, and naïve, and both assumed that the other felt the same way about the important things – or at least would be willing to compromise on them. It turned out that there was one thing that we had opposing views on, something that didn’t leave much room for any compromise short of one of us totally capitulating.”

“Children?” Kate guesses; I nod.

“Emmet really wanted at least one – and I really didn’t. We had a lot of late night conversations, and ultimately decided that since neither of us was willing to sacrifice the other’s happiness – or, to a lesser extent, our own – keeping our friendship was more important to us than trying to save a doomed marriage. We started the divorce process before strained conversations could devolve into screaming matches; whilst I won’t deny that things between us were rocky for a year or so, by the time the dust finally settled, our friendship was stronger than ever.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Kate says. “And… for the record, it’s my personal belief that forcing people to stay together when they no longer want it is a greater harm to the so-called ‘sanctity of marriage’ than allowing them to divorce. You won’t get any judgment from me on those grounds.”

“And if you want to judge on the grounds that I’ve had _five_ divorces, well, I judge _myself_ for that.”

Kate laughs, but doesn’t pursue it. “So, did Emmet eventually get what he wanted?”

“He did. It took a few years before he met the right woman, but she’s absolutely perfect for him – and I’m not just saying that because she was completely unfazed by him still being best friends with his ex-wife.”

“No trying to stop him spending time with you?”

“None at all; she was fine with me being Emmet’s Best Woman at their wedding, and when they adopted their son, she was the one who insisted that I should be his godmother.”

“Wait… you have a godson? I thought you didn’t like children.”

“I like them just fine – in small doses. I never wanted any of my own; the responsibilities, the sacrifices, the absolute certainty that I’d fuck them up as badly as my parents fucked me up.”

For a moment, it looks like Kate’s going to comment on that, but then she settles on, “no regrets, then?”

“None. I got to play a part in Toby’s upbringing, and that was enough to satisfy any vestige of a maternal instinct I might have had.”

“That’s good, then. Whilst I can’t imagine not having had Rachel and Simon, I do accept that parenthood isn’t for everyone.”

“Unlike my parents, who never forgave me for not giving them grandchildren – somewhat ironic, given how disinterested they were in their own child.” I sigh. “Anyway, that was the story of my first marriage, as requested.”

“At least you managed to keep your best friend. Do you still see Emmet often?”

“Not as much as I’d like; he’s still down in LA. Toby is at college in Portland, though, and he’s been coming up to visit once a month – mostly to dissuade me from going down there and embarrassing him in front of his cool friends, I suspect.”

Kate asks me to tell her more about Toby, and I find plenty to say; the check arrives long before I run out of anecdotes.

“We should do this again soon,” Kate says as we’re getting up to leave.

“I’m sure that would make Antonio very happy,” I tell her with a smile. Sure enough, he intercepts us on the way out with hopes that we’ll be back again. “Well, I should really get back to work,” I say reluctantly once we get outside.

“So should I,” says Kate. “Just because my publishers gave me an indefinite extension to my deadline, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t prefer to get the manuscript sooner rather than later. Why don’t you give me a call next week to set up our next lunch?”

“I can do that.”

Kate surprises me with a brief hug, then hurries off. I watch her go, already looking forward to the next time I see her.


End file.
